


(You) Fell Underwater

by Tyrant_Tortoise



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fell Underwater verse, Female Reader, Oceanfell, Possible Polyamory, Reader with a Brave Soul, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, oh hey it's my AU, pirate skeletons, story won't focus solely on the skeles, we'll get to see the rest of the Underwater, world-building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14052339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyrant_Tortoise/pseuds/Tyrant_Tortoise
Summary: Ever since you were a child, you'd heard the tales of sea monsters, of the Great War where the sea tried to reclaim the land, and the price that humanity paid for peace.  You and everyone else on your island had been cautioned against going into the ocean; there were murmurs of careless swimmers and sailors alike being dragged Underwater, never to be seen again.You had no idea that you were about to discover that every horrifying myth you'd heard about the creatures that lurked within the murky depths was true.---Standing along the shoreline with the six other humans selected from The Raffle, you stare defiantly past the shoulder of a stocky pirate.“well, well...” the skeleton monster drawls, tilting his head as he regards you with amusement. “ye look like a lass that gives no quarter. i wonder if that’s the tale yer soul’ll be singin’.”





	1. Brave Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Black ocean, cold and dark_   
>  _I am the hungry shark, fast and merciless_   
>  _But the only girl that could talk to him just couldn't swim_   
>  _Tell me what's worse than this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Those of you that [follow my tumblr](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/)/have read Skeleton Squatters and the Landlady already know about Oceanfell Sans and Papyrus (nicknamed Buc and Cap'n), and this is finally a look inside their AU! This can also be known as the Fell Underwater AU, but since it doesn't appear that anyone else did a fell take on Oceantale yet, we've mostly just been using that. 
> 
> There isn't a set update schedule for this one; SSLL still takes priority, but these chapters are pretty short, so I'm hoping to update quickly/whenever the mood strikes me. Concept art & fanart at the end.

You'd always had terrible luck.

If something could go wrong, it couldn't _just_ go wrong for you; no, instead whatever happened had to be an absolute disaster.

It started from your birth, when your mother died. Cursed upon conception and born beneath the wrong star sign, your grandparents claimed. It may sound like old wives' tales, but after a lifetime of misgivings, you believe them. 

How else could you explain your current predicament, where you're forced to line up along the coast, awaiting certain doom with a group of whimpering cowards?

You saw this coming a mile away. The Raffle occurred every seven years, after all. When you came of age to be put into it, you tried to run -- to move away from the coastal city you despised -- but they dragged you back, kicking and screaming. Your name had been entered thrice as punishment, but somehow, you miraculously didn't get pulled.

You knew your luck wouldn't last, however. You _knew_ it, and yet, as the years passed and your anxiety grew to be suffocating, you weren't able to leave the city, your infraction pushing back your request until after the next Raffle. 

You can still remember the paperwork stamped with an all-caps, red **DENIED** that was sent back to you in the mail. You can also still recall the smug look on the office worker's face when you went in person to refute it. 

_Blacklisted._ That's what he called you. All you had to do was wait until the next raffle. You had been eighteen and hell-bent on getting off the cursed island, but he told you to wait. 

_You'll be entered into the queue after the next Raffle,_ he'd said. You can still remember the shitty way his smile had quirked into a smirk, and how difficult it had been to squelch the urge to leap across the desk and throttle him. That's probably why they put the plexiglass between the two of you in the first place. 

_Good luck,_ he'd mocked.

You have plenty of luck, but none of it has ever been good. 

When you were entered into the Raffle the first time, you were fifteen and terrified. You wanted nothing more than to escape. 

In today's Raffle, you're twenty-two and pissed off. You were _so close_ to freedom, only to have it snatched away by your own rotten luck. 

When they had called your name, along with six others, you weren't surprised in the slightest. When they forced you to stand along the coastline, dressed in your best attire, you didn't wail or whine like the others. No, you impassively stood there, glaring at the crashing waves and cursing the fact that you'd been born beneath a terrible omen.

"What... what do you think they do to the humans they take?" one of the others asks, a trembling girl with a bright blue dress you can glimpse from the corner of your eye as she sways. 

"You don't think they're going to... eat us?" a boy, who couldn't be much older than the girl, voices with trepidation. 

"Haven't you see who shows up? They're _pirates_. They probably want a bride or something," a woman's voice speaks up.

An older man scoffs. "If that's the case, why'm I here?"

"You could still be their bride," the woman insists, but seems to realize her implication is only unsettling the younger Raffle picks. "But... I mean, that's probably not the case. The pirates are probably just lackeys for the rest."

"Maybe they pick a human to turn into a sea monster," someone else suggests, and you tune the rest of their chatter out. They're sticking their heads in the sand, trying to pretend their fate can be different. You're not naïve; you know what they're going to do to whomever they pick from the seven of you lined up on the coastline. Everyone knows.

The person they select will die. 

No one ever watches the Selected be taken away, save the security lined up behind them to make sure they don't bolt. The guards aren't sworn to secrecy, however, so there's been plenty of speculation over what happens -- despite the fact that the island officials are quick to talk about brave sacrifices for the good of humanity, yet assure the public that being Chosen isn't a death sentence. 

You're not an idiot. You know what sacrifice means, what the _monsters_ want. 

A disturbance on the water draws you from your somber musings, and you watch as a pirate ship rises from the depths of the murky water, sporting a Jolly Roger sail and a skull with flashing red eyes affixed to the bow. It looks like a demon rising from Hell, but you suck in a deep breath and refuse to be shaken, even as the others gasp and tremble beside you. As it draws closer, you can see that the ship itself appears to be worse for wear; it's sporting several holes in the hull, and the massive sails are ripped and ragged, yet it defies all odds by sailing strong. 

As it reaches the shore, two pirates disembark as expected -- a _literal_ two-man skeleton crew. The Selected beside you begin panicking. The younger girl bursts into tears and collapses on the sand, while the woman and older man turn and flee. The guards are quick to push them back into place, and the older man is clubbed in the leg when he swings for one of the guards' heads, effectively taking him down. 

You, however, remain passive, staring straight ahead into the water. 

Your palms are sweating, and your heart is pounding in your throat, but you refuse to give into your terror. It's not as if you could flee into the sea, anyway. 

You never learned how to swim.

"aye, ye've got th' rum? an' th' gold?"

A gruff baritone voice speaks with one of the guards. The pirates don't just get a human sacrifice as part of the Raffle; no, they also request spirits and gold for their troubles. A few of the guards load the barrels onto their vessel, along with a small chest. 

"wait," the voice says, and you hear something jingle. "th' chest seems light this year, lads. aimin' to hornswaggle us, are ye?"

"No, not... not at all," one of the guards hastily replies. "It's just all that we could manage this year. There's a lot of jewelry in there, I swear it! Even added some jewels for ya."

The pirate hums, and you're tempted to glance over and catch a glimpse of him. However, as soon as you start to, you can see the other pirate approaching the line-up from your peripherals, so you resolutely continue to stare forward.

"that pocket watch ye got? gold plated?"

"Y... Yessir, but--"

"it'll make do." You can hear the beginnings of a protest as the pirate undoubtedly swipes the pocket watch right out of the guard's front breast pocket. "we're square now, bucko."

Which a light chuckle, you hear the pirate crunch through the sand, toward the other one. "ARE YE QUITE DONE?" This voice isn't quite as deep as the other, but it is still gruff, and much more boisterous.

"aye, cap'n, jus' a bit o' sport."

"SPORT? THERE'S NO SPORT IN THIS LINE-UP, UNFORTUNATELY. PITIFUL, THE LOT 'O THEM, WHIMPERING AN' CRYING. THAT ONE'S LEG HAS BEEN MANGLED BY ONE OF HIS OWN, EVEN! DISGUSTING!"

"Please!" One of the women begs, "I don't want to die!"

Suddenly, she gasps, and you glimpse a faint violet light reflect across the ripples of the ocean. 

"IT MUST BE YOUR LUCKY DAY, HUMAN. MASTER PIRATE PAPYRUS WILL SPARE YOU!"

The woman starts weeping and thanking him as soon as the light diminishes. The others begin clamoring, begging for their lives in a cacophony of whimpers and desperation. 

One by one, the pirates begin examining the Selected, while you focus on keeping your breathing even. Flickers of greens and purples and light blues light the surface of the water, yet you never take your eyes off the sea.

That is... until the shorter of the two skeletons stops directly in front of you, blocking your view. Defiantly, you stare at a point just past his shoulder, and you can see his smirk widen, the sharp golden tooth glinting. Skeletal phalanges grip your chin and tilt it back, forcing you to look up and meet his single crimson eyelight. The opposite socket is concealed beneath an eyepatch, a jagged crack vertically running through his orbit and disappearing beneath his feathered hat. Golden bones appear to be fixed to either side of the tricorn, and you notice a golden flare in the stitching. Despite the grandeur of his attire, his appearance is slovenly, the dark jacket too big for his frame, a rusted shackle clasped around his neck, and his ivory, button-up shirt mostly undone and halfway untucked.

“well, well...” the monster drawls, tilting his head as he regards you with amusement. “ye look like a lass that gives no quarter. i wonder if that’s the tale yer soul’ll be singin’.”

A shiver runs up your spine; you can smell smoke and some sort of spice on his breath from his close proximity, and you have to avert your eyes. He chuckles, and the tips of his fingers dig into your chin. In the next moment, you feel something grip within your chest, squeezing the very breath from your lungs. The feeling forcibly rips something from within you, and you gasp, the world suddenly draining of color.

All except for the bright orange glow of the little heart floating before you.

Your SOUL.

That was what those colors were -- the pirates had been Confronting the others' SOULs. You had heard tales, of course; you knew how important SOULs were to monsters. It was the entire purpose of the Raffle. The monsters had to power their barrier, to keep the humans out. It was the price of peace between monsters and humans during the Great War. Your island had been the first to attack and the first to surrender, so the sea monster king demanded the Raffle be put into effect. 

The island officials try to cover up the meaning with flowery words like Selected and Brave Sacrifice so the children won't grow up terrified, but your grandparents never sugar-coated the true meaning for you. 

The stout pirate's bone brow raises as he regards your SOUL, and the light seems to draw the attention of the taller one. You barely register the other’s lankier, more jagged appearance; everything seems muffled, like their voices are coming from underwater.

When they both smirk at you, you finally allow yourself to feel fear.

The shorter one snaps his fingers and your SOUL crashes back into your chest with enough force to knock the air right out of you. Your knees buckle, but the taller pirate grasps you by the elbow and effortlessly hauls you back to your feet. 

He doesn't let go.

"THIS ONE," he rasps to the guards, and you glance up just in time to see the others that are lining the shore simultaneously sighing or shouting in relief and then looking to you with the piteous looks one reserves for the dying.

You're not surprised. You're not. You expected your luck to bring you this kind of misfortune, and yet... your vision blurs as your eyes water. The tall pirate begins effortlessly dragging you through the sand by the arm, even as you dig in your heels and begin to thrash. Fight or flight has kicked in full force, and you're not about to let him drag you to your death without a fight. 

You scream, a shrill screech that causes your captor to flinch and turn a sharp glare down toward you. It catches him off-guard, and you use the opening to kick against his leg while twisting your body. Vaguely, you hear something snap and his hold goes lax, causing you to tumble on your hands and knees into the sand. Desperate, you flail on all fours, trying to make it back to your feet while putting as much distance between yourself and the skeletons as possible. 

You hear a voice behind you tell the guards to stand down, but it doesn't register. As soon as you finally regain your balance and attempt to take off running, a pressure grips your chest again, and you find yourself slammed face-first into the sand. The grit burns your cheek, and you end up with a mouthful of it, with broken bits of shell digging into your palms and knees. You attempt to push yourself up, but you can't move.

After several moments of struggling, you finally tire yourself out. The pressure eases, allowing you to breathe a little better, and boots crunch through the sand toward you.

"ye made a bad call there, lass," the shorter skeleton claims as he crouches down beside you. "not that i expected ye t' go down wit'out a fight, but eh. failin' means yer playin', aye?" 

You manage to turn your head enough to catch a glimpse of his sharp smirk, and he winks at you. In the next moment, he snakes an arm around your waist and abruptly lifts you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His shoulder digs into your stomach, and you find yourself clutching onto the back of his jacket so you won't fall head-first into the sand. 

You can't see anything except the sand passing by, until suddenly, it becomes wood beneath his feet and you realize he's boarded their ship. He ascends a stairway, and you curl tighter around his shoulder in fear of being dropped, which only makes him chuckle. 

Quick footsteps approach, and the taller skeleton sounds fairly pained, "I SHOULD KEELHAUL THE LASS FOR THAT! 'VE DONE WORSE FOR LESS!" 

You're not sure what keelhauling is, but you can imagine it's painful. Still, you're not about to apologize or grovel for your life to _monsters_ that are planning on murdering you. You shift your knee, intending on trying to hit the short skeleton in the sternum so you can jump overboard while the ship's still in the shallows, but he seems to anticipate this and grips your legs tight with his free arm. 

"c'mon cap'n. did'ja expect less from someone wit' a soul singin' a shanty like hers? 'sides, it's but yer pride that's injured."

"TRUE AS IT MAY BE, IT'S STILL THE GIBBET FER HER! CANNOT HAVE HER JUMPING SHIP!" 

"aye, cap'n, that we cannae 'ave."

He carries you further, the other skeleton leading the way, and you hear the rusted creak of something metallic opening. The pirate then moves you from his shoulder and pushes you into a small metal cage. Immediately, he slams the door shut, and you hear a lock click. It swings from a post on the ship, and you grab the bars, feeling claustrophobic despite the fact that you believe the cage may have been designed for monsters; the bars are spaced wide, but not wide enough for you to contort your body between them.

"HOIST ANCHOR AN' SHOVE OFF, SANS. LET'S GET OFF THIS BLASTED ISLE."

"aye, cap'n," the short pirate-- _Sans_ , you suppose his name is--replies as he steps away from your cage. He makes a vague motion with his hand, and you hear a chain begin to clank. The ship begins to move of its own accord, despite the fact that you haven't seen any other crew members. 

_It's magic. It's gotta be magic. They're monsters._

The captain stands before your cage, scowling, with one of his arms dangling limp at his side. Did you dislocate it? You know you hear a pop, but you're not sure what happened to make him lose his hold on you. Whatever his injury may be, you noticed that the other skeleton didn't seem overly concerned, so it must not be too terrible. 

For the first time, you get the opportunity to look him over. His coat has the same gold trim as Sans's, but his is longer--and a much better fit. His undershirt is tattered, however, exposing some of his ribs, most of his spine, and the crests of his pelvis. An equally-ragged, crimson bandanna is wrapped around his skull beneath his hat, which depicts a single golden crossbone on the front, and there are two deep gashes going across his left orbit. Unlike Sans, however, the captain doesn't have an eyepatch, and there are two pinpricks of red light studying you just as hard as you're examining him. 

He sticks a thick-soled boot against the side of your cage and then pushes, causing you to swing. You grip the bars harder, feeling a little queasy. You always did have the tendency to get motion sick.

He seems to notice because he smirks. Mentally, you give him the bird. 

Once the ship is fully off-shore and gliding through the water, the sails catch wind, and it begins to accelerate at a frightening pace. The cage swings harder, and the creaking makes you think that it's going to fall off the post and plunge into the water, and you desperately don't want to drown in a little cage. 

Suddenly, the world tips down, and you realize that the front of the ship is _descending_ like a submarine. 

Into the water.

With you still on the upper deck.

You scream again, some incoherent word between a plea and an expletive, ripped from your throat in pure terror. You'd rather be murdered outright on the ship than die a slow and painful death while suffocating. You'd been pulled under once, years before when you were a child, and that fear resurfaces with a vengeance. You didn't want to give them this satisfaction before, but now that you're faced with this inevitability, you can't help but claw and rattle the cage. 

The ocean swallows the ship, and the cold water surges you against the bars before you feel your body begin to float. You're jostled; your head hits the top, then your back hits the opposite bars, and that stupid dress they insisted you wear for the Selection rises up around you like a pale cloud. Frantically, you kick and flail within your confines, holding your breath for as long as you can, while the pirates impassively watch your struggle. 

_How can they be so cruel?_

"FOR SUCH A COURAGEOUS LASS, SHE'S RATHER DAFT," the captain rasps.

"breathe, bucko," Sans instructs, chuckling. Your chest is burning so much that you're forced to give in and take a deep, ragged breath, and... you're surprised when water doesn't fill your lungs. 

You can _breathe_ underwater.

You turn your wide-eyed stare to your captors, and they both start laughing at your expense.

"did'ja really think we're such _monsters_ that we'd drown ye first thing? underwater's full o' magic, lass. an' magic can do all sorts o' things."

Ever since you were a child, you'd heard the tales of monsters, of the Great War where the sea tried to reclaim the land, and the price that humanity paid for peace. You and everyone else on your island had been cautioned against going into the ocean; there were murmurs of careless swimmers and sailors alike being dragged Underwater, never to be seen again. 

You had no idea that you were about to discover that every horrifying myth you'd heard about the creatures that lurked in the murky depths was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For further information on Oceanfell, check out [my main Undertale tumblr](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/) or my sideblog, [Ask the Skelelodge](https://asktheskelelodge.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **Concept art/Fanart:**  
>  what-is-fanart-even was kind enough to create [the first official concept art of Sans and Papyrus ](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/163273506968/what-is-fanart-even-okay-so-tyranttortoise-made) for me several months back! She even more recently created the concept art for [Oceanfell Undyne](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/169008212453/what-is-fanart-even-yall-know-its-serious-when), and it's spot-on what I envisioned. Huge shout out to her for being the first to take interest in this AU and encourage me. <3  
> Also huge shout-out to [nighttimepixels](https://nighttimepixels.tumblr.com/) for letting me commission her for some amazing talksprites of [Sans](https://asktheskelelodge.tumblr.com/post/171868559410/hey-buccaroo-tell-me-more-about-your-brother-so) and [Papyrus.](https://asktheskelelodge.tumblr.com/post/172112545517/woah-capns-looking-like-quite-the-handsome) I highly recommend commissioning her. <3 She was such a sweetheart with helping translate my descriptions into art.  
> quietsilenceus drew [a W.I.P of Papyrus without his coat. ](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/169798997213/quietsilenceus-wip-of-oceanfell-papyrus-in) Mmmm, check out how cool his shirt looks, and that sweet-ass x-ray vision.  
> rose6170 drew [Sans in all of his pirate glory ](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/169856688002/asktheskelelodge-rose6170-submitted-oh-my)  
> bulle-phoenix-scorpios drew [Sans getting a #1 star--plus his favorite sea creature ](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/170362722803/asktheskelelodge-bullephoenix-scorpios)  
> jolie-in-the-underground drew [an awesome crossover of Buc (OF!Sans) and Rogue (her AU Compasstale) having drinks together ](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/172079040468/jolie-in-the-underground-tyranttortoise-has)  
> misscres drew [herself with her badass pirate attire and Sans holding onto her SOUL ](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/170954736333/misscres-oh-my-god-sothe-first-i-heard-of-buc)  
> alienlynx drew [shirtless Sans being sexy with his hat.](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/170958449093/alienlynx-sorry-not-sorry-buc-but-i-couldnt)


	2. Just Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I've seen better days_   
>  _So unafraid in my youth_   
>  _I can't breathe, much less believe the truth_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this took forever, but last night, I got the muse for Oceanfell, so I decided to revamp my outline and get another chapter done. I hope you guys enjoy Buc and Cap'n! I've missed these two so much.

Breathing underwater is a strange sensation. 

For one, you’re not inhaling water when you breathe, nor does it flood your mouth when you open it. The skeletons don’t even sound distorted by the water, and their hats remain firmly in place, even though the captain’s tattered bandana is floating behind him. You’re still floating, one hand pushing your dress down between your legs and the other bracing against the top of your cage. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as a mixture of emotions rush over you. Terror at your fate, embarrassment at your prior floundering -- and above all else, unbridled rage at the way they’re leering in amusement over your predicament. 

_How the hell was I supposed to know I could breathe underwater? That’s not something that you just assume is possible, you bastard!_

You’re glaring daggers at Sans, which causes his smirk to only widen. Your face feels flush.

“c’mon, lass. hangin’ the jib don’t suit ya. get yer feet on th’ ground already an let’s be rid o’ those land legs.”

You’re not entirely sure what he just said, but if he tries to cut off your legs, you’re going to kick his skull from his shoulders. Still, you try to make sense of him and release your dress to push hard on the top of the cage with both hands. You point your toes as the force sends you back toward the bottom, and your feet touch. Strangely enough, they seem to stay in place, and you breathe a sigh of relief that comes out in bubbles. 

The captain scowls, averting his gaze from you. “I HAVE OTHER MATTERS WHICH REQUIRE MY IMMEDIATE ATTENTION. SANS, YE ‘AVE THE DECK. MAKE CERTAIN OUR COURSE STAYS TRUE.”

“aye, cap’n. i won’t let it sway asunder.”

Sans lazily salutes as the captain turns on his heel descends a stairwell further into the ship. The stocky pirate looks you over slowly -- predatorily -- and you resist the urge to shrink back in the cage, instead standing your ground. You don’t trust his grin for a second, and you can’t afford to let your guard down.

“got a name, lass?”

You refuse to answer; you don’t want to talk to him, to give him any sort of satisfaction by playing Twenty Questions. He may be dressed as a pirate, but you know he’s your Executioner.

“no? alrighty, i’ll stick wit’ lass.”

You ignore him, and after a long moment of staring each other down, you finally have to look away; his shit-eating grin is beginning to unnerve you. Instead, you turn your attention to the waters below. The ocean floor is quickly zooming by; you catch glimpses of various colorful fish, and even a few jellyfish bobbing along. 

“ye favor th’ ocean?”

Almost imperceptibly, you shook your head. The ocean has always been something dark, waves roiling with an evil your grandparents ranted about whenever anyone mention the Raffle or someone went missing. You had always secretly hoped that the missing sailors, swimmers, and teenagers filled with misplaced intrepidity had simply escaped the island and went somewhere that wasn’t bound by outlandish laws “ _for the good of humanity._ ” 

Being on this ship, however, doused all of those foolish notions. Monsters didn’t lurk beneath beds and insider closets, but _seamonsters_ were absolutely real. 

Once, you had dismissed your own ill-begotten foray into the ocean as seaweed or the undertow pulling you under. Now, the memory definitely felt more like a hand grasping your leg. It had been more than enough to curb your impulse to learn to swim and earn the ocean your hatred. 

“truly? th’ ocean’s much better than that shite isle o’ yers. nothin’ beats th’ open seas, ‘specially when there be mischief an’ fortune in th’ salty air.”

Does this pirate like to talk for the sake of listening to himself? There’s nothing in the air Underwater, and your sense of smell is nearly nonexistent, other than something strange and reminiscent of ozone. 

_Is the ‘fortune’ the chest he got from the guards? Makes sense that they’d get paid to haul me in. Must be some kind of pirate tribute._

“lass, from th’ look on yer well tidy face, ‘ve gotta confess that ye may be the _saltiest_ thing in th’ ocean.”

Your attention shifts back to him suddenly. Did he... just make a pun? He chuckles at your new expression, seeming proud of himself. Quickly, you avert your eyes again, glaring into the depths below. You realize he’s right; you’re probably coming across more as a pouting child than a defiant prisoner -- but dammit, you don’t want to make small talk with him! You can’t just roll over and accept your fate, even if you know your odds of surviving are abysmal at this point.

“well ain’tcha jus’ a right ol’ blether hen.”

As you tune him out, you notice the scenery below abruptly change. The ocean floor seems to take a sudden drop, and the ship moves along with it, sailing directly above what you could only describe a ship graveyard. There are bits and pieces of ships both old and new(ish) littering the bottom, some of which seem to have been patched back together using broken pieces from other ships. Strange symbols are somehow drawn on the various ships, but the place seems to be bereft of seamonsters-- at least, from what you can tell. 

“-- an’ what if i let ye out so ye could get yer sealegs? maybe show ye to a cabin?” 

You tune back into the conversation as soon as you hear the offer to let you out. Eagerly, you nod, your sullen expression lifting. If you can get out of the cage, then you could leap overboard and try to hide in the ship graveyard below. Maybe one of those ships runs on magic, too, and you could use it to get back to shore. It’s the only plan you’ve come up with so far, and it seems like your best bet. By your own calculations, your chances of living are dropping at the same rate as the ship’s descent.

“thought that oughta perk ye up.” Sans grins and reaches into his coat’s pocket to produce a large ring with only one key. He catches your eye and shrugs. “ _skeleton_ key, it is.”

Another pun? That one almost draws a laugh from you -- before you remember that he’s your _kidnapper._

Sans unlocks the cage, and the rusted hinges protest as he opens the door. “c’mon, lass, lemme help ye down. th’ first step can be a doozy.”

He offers you his hand to help you from the cage, which takes you back a little, and in turn, you give him the sweetest, most disarming smile you can muster. It perks him up, his own grin widening, but... instead of slipping your hand in his, you bypass the offer and shove him in the shoulders with both hands as hard as you can. 

Caught off-guard, Sans barely moves back -- the skeleton is seriously sturdy! -- but the momentum causes the cage to rock, the door spinning away from Sans and toward the side of the ship. 

You don’t hesitate. You jump. 

The ridiculous ivory dress you’d adorned rises up as you fall overboard, and with the way your arms are raised above your head, it happens to strip your clothing right off you. You can hear Sans shout, but you’re not worried about the fact that you’re now clad in only your underwear right now. No, your dignity takes a backseat to your survival instincts, and instead, you’re thankful that it won’t be constricting your movements anymore. 

Caps of coral cover a clearing between two ships, so beautiful that from here, you could swear they're a field of golden flowers, promising to break your fall.

However, you don’t even make it to the bottom of the ship before you feel something tug hard at your chest, stealing your breath away in a gurgling cloud of bubbles. It’s as if someone just reached into you, grabbed you by the sternum, and pulled. Your back arches, your head snapping back, and you suddenly find yourself floating up toward the ship’s deck.

_Shit! No, no, no, nononono!_

Panic surges through you, and you even though your chest feels so tight that it’s difficult to breathe, you flail wildly. If anything, that just makes the invisible hold on you tighten until you begin to feel faint. 

You’re brought face-to-face with Sans, and you’re almost pleased to find that his shit-eating grin has been completely wiped from his face. His glowing eyelight, however, seems much larger to you than usual, nearly filling his entire eyesocket. 

“ _christ_ , lass. yer a right bampot, so ye are.”

You thought you were so close. You’d actually felt hope when you leapt from the cage, as if you that could actually ever work.

After all, with your luck... all of this was rigged from the start.

You’re hyperventilating, and the tightness in your chest is relentless. 

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. You can’t--

Sans’s face fades from your view, as does everything else.

###### 

When you regain consciousness, there’s that cruel moment where you think all of that had just been a terrible nightmare... but then you notice the way the water makes your body feel off, as if the air has weight. 

You’re on a bed -- no, wait, it’s a cot. Your mind feels fuzzy, and everything comes back to you slowly. You tried to jump overboard and pissed Sans off. You also lost your dress in the process.

Immediately, heat rises to your cheeks, and you clutch the covers to your body at the memory. You’d been too concerned with escaping to give it more like a cursory thought, but now that you’re stuck with the pirates, you’d _really_ rather not be in your underwear. 

As you gather the sheet around your body, you sit up and begin to take in your surroundings. The walls are drab, with a flag covering a rather sizeable hole in the wall, along with small trinkets on mounted shelves. The wood is splintered in places, and the floor is stained a rusted color in some spots. There’s also a desk and a couch on the opposite side, and you immediately notice a stack of clothes on the chair and a plate of food on the desk. 

Springing from the cot, you make a beeline for the clothes, only to realize just how different it is walking Underwater. There’s a slight resistance with the water, but luckily, you’re not floating and able to step normally. When you reach the clothes, you unfold them to discover some of Sans’s spare clothes. The white shirt laces up the chest and hangs big on you, and you have to use a sash to cinch the waist of the black trousers, but it’s much better than nothing. 

You eye the food -- it’s covered in some sort of wrapping -- but decide to explore the room first. Predictably, the door is locked, but perhaps you can find some other means of escaping. The hole beneath the flag seems promising, so you pull back a corner of the fabric to look. It seems to lead to a deeper part of the ship, but anywhere is more promising than behind a locked door. 

Suddenly, you hear a key insert into the lock in question, and you guilty jump away from the wall. Just as the door swings open, you spin around to come face-to-face with the captain. 

What was his name again? Papyrus? 

His posture is as tense as ever, his gaze much more scathing than his first mate’s. 

“BE SEATED, HUMAN!” he bellows with such authority that you can’t help but scramble to sit on the edge of a couch cushion. There’s a fire smoldering in those sockets as he stalks forward and sits in the desk chair across from you. He only seems to pause when he notices the food on the desk, and his scowl deepens. With a scoff, he rips open the flimsy covering and grasps what appears to be some sort of malformed fruit. 

His fangs sink into it, and it sounds almost like he’s biting into an apple. Momentarily, his eyelights flick to his humerus, and you realize for the first time that he’s not wearing his long, black coat. Instead, you can see his tattered, red undershirt, which exposes his lower spine and his bottom rib. Half of the right sleeve is missing, and the other is ripped -- but what catches your eye is the cloth wrapped around left his upper arm. From a tear in the sleeve, you can see that the bone looks purplish-black around that area, with a long crack running through the bone. As he eats the fruit, it seems to become a lighter color, but that could just be your imagination. 

_Did I do that? When I injured him? I thought I just dislocated his shoulder, but it looks like I broke his arm._

You feel some satisfaction with that. If they can be injured, maybe you can fight as a last resort.

“YE REALLY ARE DAFT IF YE THOUGHT TO HORNSWAGGLE ME FIRST MATE.”

And maybe if he’s injured, he won’t kill you right now. 

“ALL THAT REMAINS IN THAT PART IS THE RUINS. AS IN, RUINED SHIPS AN’ RUINED MONSTERS. AYE, THEY’D BUT KILL YE OUTTA MERCY IF YE HAD MANAGED TO GET DOWN THERE.”

So, there _were_ seamonsters down there? You supposed someone’s misplaced mercy might be easier to deal with than two kidnappers that were planning to do who-knows-what with you. 

“‘COURSE THAT’S THE ONLY PLACE YE WOULD’VE FOUND MERCY. IF YE THINK I AM THE TYPE TO GRANT CLEMENCY, YE’D BE WRONG, LASSIE!”

He rolls the wrist of his injured arm, then grabs another fruit from your plate and chomps down. Nearly half of it is devoured easily in a single bite.

“WHAT SAY YE FOR YOURSELF? HAVE YE LEARNED O’ OUR ABILITIES AN’ STEELED YOURSELF FOR YOUR FATE?” You remain silent, continuing to hold his gaze as he finishes off the fruit in another vicious bite. Slowly, he stands, towering over you in two long strides. His body bends, and he reaches out toward you with his good arm. You flinch as he grasps your throat and pushes your head back until it touches the wall behind you. He isn’t strangling you, but the pressure is unpleasant and sets your pulse racing.

“OR SHALL I SHACKLE THIS THROAT TO TH’ WALL TO MAKE CERTAIN YE SHAN’T ATTEMPT ANOTHER FAST ONE?” 

Another beat goes by of silent defiance, which seems to enrage him further. “SPEAK!” he commands, squeezing your throat a little. Panic is beginning to rise within you again, and you react with your first impulse.

You grasp onto his injured upper arm and dig your fingers into the crack.

The captain howls at the unexpected pain and knocks the back of your skull painfully against the wall. As you lose your grip on his arm, he releases your throat in favor of cradling the injured extremity. Suddenly, Sans barrels into the room, his eyelight dialted again, and his expression tense.

“th’ fuck’s goin’ on cap’n?”

“THIS _WENCH_ BE LOOKIN’ TO DANCE WITH JACK KETCH!” Papyrus bellows, glaring daggers at you. The blow mildly disoriented you, but you regain your focus in time to see Sans practically slack-jawed and looking rather nervous. If he hadn’t been Underwater, you would have guessed he’d be sweating. 

You don’t know who the hell Jack Ketch is, but from the expression Papyrus is wearing, you can only assume he wants to throttle you. Enough is enough. 

“cap’n--”

“If you’re going to kill me, just kill me already!” you blurt, your own false bravado making you reckless as you hold your hands out to the sides and stand. Both skeletons openly gape, the captain’s murderous expression morphing into shock. “I don’t want to wait around and try to guess when you sickos are going to come at me, so come on!”

Sans tips his hat back a little and smirks. "ahhh, so she finally speaks! i was beginnin' t’ wonder if ye were mute, lassie."

The captain ignores him and drops his hand from his injured arm to reach out and grasp you by the front of your shirt. He pulls you forward with a sharp jerk that forces you onto your tip-toes. 

“DO NOT TEMPT ME, WENCH. YOUR FATE HAS ALREADY BEEN SEALED BY A HAND OTHER THAN MINE, BUT IF YE PERSIST TO BE A DAMNED FOOL, YE MAY FIND THAT CHANGIN’ SOON ENOUGH.” With that warning, Papyrus shoves you backwards, and the couch hits the back of your knees, causing you to collapse back onto it. He scoffs, turning away to the other skeleton. “LEASH HER, SANS,” he spats, and snatches your plate of food from the desk before he storms out. 

That could’ve gone better.

Sans quirks a bone brow and shakes his head. “yer a fierce one, ain’t’cha?”

You ignore the comment and sit up straight, pressing, "Why am I here?"

He shrugs with nonchalance, his hands shoved into his pockets. "ye got a fool's luck an' one o' the strongest souls i've ever laid eyesocket upon."

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that what The Raffle's about? You're collecting souls every seven years?”

“souls’re energy, in a sense. human ones, i mean. they can power all sorts o’ things.”

You pause. “Are you saying a human soul is like... a battery or something?”

Again, he shrugs, and the conversation feels casual -- as if he isn’t speaking about harvesting your soul for energy. “aye, ye got th’ idea, lass. seven years’s when th’ juice begins t’ run dry.”

Your heart’s pounding, and you find yourself clutching your hands over your sternum, as if you can protect your soul. You’d seen it for the first time during the Raffle, and it had shone with such a vibrant orange hue. It had been beautiful, you’d thought, but it came at a cost. 

Your hands are trembling. It was easy to stand up in the face of uncertainty, to cling to the kernel of hope that came with it. You had _assumed_ they were going to kill you, but you never knew their motives for certain. 

Now that you do, you feel cold. The trembling is moving down from your arms, to your legs, and you simultaneously ball your fists into your trousers and press your feet flat against the floor in an effort to hide it. 

“When?” you blurt, your voice wavering slightly and taking on a watery tinge that you despise. 

“hmm?”

“When... when am I going to be executed?” 

Sans is quiet, and when you lift your gaze (desperately trying to keep your expression neutral), Sans’s smirk seems faded -- piteous, even. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he rocks back on his heels. “lemme grab ye some proper grub since cap’n pilfered it.”

Before you can protest, he disappears into thin air. You do a double-take and jump to your feet to search the room for any signs of him. The door’s locked, but you know you didn’t see him leave through it.

Did you imagine him? Did the captain give you a concussion that sparked a hallucination? 

Ten minutes crawl by while you go over the conversation and pace, trying to come up with a new plan. Sans seems to be the sensible one that may just feel sorry for you, while the captain is a bastard with a short fuse. If push comes to shove, you might be able to manipulate Sans while trying to avoid Papyrus at all costs. You just wish you had a timeframe to work with.

The door swings open and Sans struts in with a platter of food in one hand... and a length of chain and shackle in the other. 

He sets the tray on the desk again and catches the way you’re staring at the shackle and beginning to back away. Suddenly, his eyelight dilates again, and the tightness in your chest reappears, holding you in place. “keep the heid,” he murmurs as you struggle not to hyperventilate again. The pressure begins to slowly ease.

Bending down, he clamps the shackle around your ankle and then affixes the chain to the heavy, metal cot. 

“apologies, lass. cap’n’s orders.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For further information on Oceanfell, check out [my main Undertale tumblr](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/) or my sideblog, [Ask the Skelelodge](https://asktheskelelodge.tumblr.com/). I'm going to make a proper blog for the AU soon, to collect all my Oceanfell info.
> 
>  **Concept art/Fanart:**  
>  snoozyanon crocheted [a doll of Oceanfell Sans!](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/175847452798/snoozyanon-oceanfell-sans-hes-finally), and I have to say, I want to throw money at you to make one of these for me.  
> quietsilenceus drew the [finished concept art of Oceanfell Papyrus](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/172848325763/quietsilenceus-oceanfell-papyrus-capn-you), and Cap'n looks amazing and perfect.  
> kitsunekisara drew [this wonderful art of bulle-black-hole with the pirate bros](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/175089627003/bulle-black-hole-kitsunekisara-mweheheh-i), and it's super sweet.  
> bulle-black-hole drew [plushie Buc](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/174900524163/bulle-black-hole-asktheskelelodge), and he's beyond adorable.  
> nighttimepixels drew a commission for Essy of[her Seaswap Papyrus and Oceanfell Sans playing strip poker](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/174467788533/nighttimepixels-and-heres-a-finished), and I'm 1000% here for it!  
> flufflebones drew [Oceanfell Sans and the Courageous Lass](https://tyranttortoise.tumblr.com/post/172126259988/flufflebones-you-fell-underwater-by), and damn if I don't love the depiction of the Lass and Buc!


End file.
